"I" have learned a hard lesson on social media: Don't disagree with your family's and friends' posted opinions.
It's THEIR soapbox. If you disagree, get on YOUR soapbox and post your dissenting opinion without singling them out. "I" know better.
"Stupid Me" doesn't.
"Stupid Me" rears his ugly head once in a while. It used to be when he'd had too much to drink, but he doesn't drink anymore. Now, it's when he's sleep-deprived. Or when he gets on too much of a roll with his snarky worldview. Or when he's jealous. Or when he needs attention. Or, those rare misguided moments when he thinks he's The Smartest Person in the Room.
Whatever the impetus was last night, "Stupid Me" usurped "I." A friend posted her opinion about the Stolen Valor Act (which made it illegal to embellish, or just pretend to have, a military background) being declared unconstitutional. A military wife, she disagreed with the ruling. Defender of free speech -- even when it's unpopular speech -- that I am, I disagreed with her.
Shut up, "I." Don't reply to her, "I." Post your opinion without referring to her, "I."
Sorry, "I" am not here right now. The role of "I" will be played tonight by "Stupid Me."
"Stupid Me" replied to her before going to bed. "I" woke up to find her having cut ties on social media -- and, presumably, ending a friendship that dates back almost 30 years.
"I" don't even have the words for how bad I feel tonight. You can make the "our friendship should be strong enough and long enough that it can withstand one disagreement" argument all you like. I tried that, along with a profuse apology. Silence.
Our friendship goes all the way back to high school. She has a now-adult daughter who's like a daughter to me. We were there for each other through significant ups and downs in our respective lives. I mattered so much to her that she used my name in the name of her only son. I love her as much as I have ever loved, and will ever love, anyone in my life.
Unless she accepts my apology and renews our friendship, that's all past. No more memories to make. All because "Stupid Me" was "I's" worst enemy once again.
Hadn't you done enough damage already, "Stupid Me"? "I" wouldn't even know where to begin with that.
Dear Charlene, please forgive me. "I" can never be sorry enough for "Stupid Me's" actions. I miss you. I love you.
And dear God, please save "I" from "Stupid Me." Again. Send "Stupid Me" straight to hell where he belongs. "I" could use a little heaven on Earth.